i’m a closet cry baby.  but i bet you already knew that.

scary scary scary scary creepy men.  how do you tell someone NO you do NOT want their phone number?! 

 so i just realized that the guy who just hit on me is the same guy who tried to hit on me sometime like a year ago…at this same coffee shop.  except last time, he came up and said…."i just wanted to tell you that you’re very beautiful"….and he asked if i was from around here…and i quickly told him i’m in college and would be leaving soon….so he backed off. 

THIS time….he comes over and sits in the chair near me for a while, reading his book…and then tried to come up with casual conversation…and asked if i knew his brother.  (who graduated from high school sometime with me…)…and then continues to ask the whole college ordeal…and then when he asks if i’m back for the holiday season….i say…yeah..but i’m going out of town soon (see, see, that was me thinkin….i was trying to avoid him asking me out or something)….and i told him i was leaving in the morning…and he POUTED and said….aww..i was going to ask if you wanted to catch a movie or something.  and THEN!…(dude, this dude doesn’t stop)…he says…"well, would you mind if i gave you my number and maybe we can talk sometime"

which brings me back to…HOW THE HECK DO YOU SAY NO!!!, YOU CREEPY CREEPY GUY?!?!  

 <sigh> i’m never frequenting this place again.  must find a new hang out spot.

college kids are depressed.  or overwhelmingly tired. 

i s’pose i should really update this at some point.

except…sadly, i’ve given in and let myself become censored…the idea of certain people reading this, bothers me.  

when did i change? 

i don’t like this.  sometimes, i miss who i used to be.  just sometimes.

due time for some more ramblings. nothing special.

A
sort of writer’s block, lately, except its more of an emotional block
than anything else.  Any sort of passion or compassion has
been….on hold, or something.  Busying myself with other means, I
suppose.  Funny how people get tired of being in those funk moods
all the time, but miss it when they’re not.  Or at least I
do.  I think its good for me. 

I
ran into randy today, while I was detouring from responsibility. 
Ended up sitting outside for an hour listening to him play his freshly
written album.  Songs about Carmen.  8 songs…about
Carmen…from the perspective of five guys.  Interesting take. 
interesting guy.

It was nice to sit outside.  Fall evenings always make me think of those way back
when kind of days…when I used to race my bike home hoping to make it
back before dark.  i miss that smell.  Autumn air is good.

It
hit me, again, tonight.  How awkward I am.  I think, I just
realized that I’ve spent a good bit of my college career trying to
convince others how awkward I am. maybe myself too. consciously and not. 

 that is all.

ambiguous poetry. and other things i hate.

Run.  Or stay.  It’s the same, either way.

My
circle is yours is mine is ours. My feet ran into you, running from me,
chasing me, away from us.  Chasing me, chasing us, from ourselves.

our problem is that you think I mean you
when I mean me and I really know nothing at all.  But you’re too
scared.  Or maybe it was me.

Run.  Or stay.  It’s the same, either way.

My circle….alone.

I feel pretty…oh so pretty!

Phamily.

Summer ’04

 

Summer ’05

 

I miss them.  

(yep.  definitely rounder after freshman year) 

What if I really was made for something more.  more than this in and out of people’s lives trying to change them. I can’t change them, people tell me. I can’t change myself, actually.  Or…maybe i simply don’t want to.  But I also don’t want to just let them change me.  And conform.  Shannon said that’s one of my biggest weaknesses…and strengths…is that I fight conformity.  Or something like that…more eloquently stated.

although music is great, its not music anymore when you’re stuck behind the constraints of aspiring creativity and little talent.  but then again, your talent can be someone else’s genius.  who’s to judge. 

dancing girls?

It’s amazing how much parents try to protect their children from things.  Sometimes, I don’t think mine will ever let me grow up. 

Now I know my father is often the playful manly type in the sense that sometimes I’ll find nudity purchases off of pay per view…and who could forget finding last year’s april issue of playboy magazine under my car seat earlier this summer when my parents let me bring the car up to school.  Well tonight my dad told me to put in a traditional Vietnamese cai luong movie in…and I found a dvd that he was watching last night entitled (roughly translated) “dancing girls.”  So of course, I decide to ask him, teasingly, what he’s been watching…and…silence.  Awkward glances are exchanged between the parental units.

Dad: “It says dancing girls, so it’s dancing girls.”

Me: (still thinking its funny) “what’re you doing watching dancing girls?”

<dramatic pause>

Mom: “its dancing girls.  It’s a documentary that explains the history and struggles of women in Vietnam.”

Oh.  Silence.  End transmission.  I guess….there was a brief window of conversation that opened up when she said that, but my initial dumbfounded state blew it shut too soon. 

People use these things, online journals/blogs, to let out steam…..to document their lives….to remember things.  Well, these are the kind of moments that I want to remember.